


forever in love (no need to rush)

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, accidental proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah, sure, babe. Sounds perfect.  You wanna get married, too? I’ll put a ring on it, and we can settle down, how about that?” </p>
<p>Tom blinks down at him with wide eyes, his jaw slack, and Mike suddenly realizes what he just said.</p>
<p>And how this looks.</p>
<p>“Tom --” he starts, but Tom’s already hauling him to his feet, his hands gripping Mike’s biceps so hard Mike’s afraid he might bruise.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Tom says, and then he’s kissing Mike so hard their teeth clack together.  “Shittiest proposal ever,” he says between kisses, “but yeah. <i>Yes</i>, Latts, lets do it.”</p>
<p>And just like that, Mike’s engaged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forever in love (no need to rush)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted someone to write accidental proposal fic and ended up writing it myself!
> 
> thanks to redcrate and fromiftowhen for being awesome. :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr for more fun!

“I’m so sick of moving,” Tom groans from his spot on the floor. He’s surrounded by half-empty boxes, and there’s a piece of packing tape stuck to his arm. Mike leans over and snatches it off, and Tom yelps, swatting at him. “Ouch, fucker!” 

“Baby,” Mike says fondly, piling a stack of folded towels into a box. “Hand me those wash clothes.”

“Aren’t you sick of packing at the end of every year, man?” Tom asks, arching his back in a stretch as he gets to his feet. After four years in the NHL, he’s feeling every ache in his muscles more acutely than he used to. 

Mike shrugs and tapes the box shut, writing “towels and shit” on it in black block letters. “It is what it is, I guess. Seems silly to pay for an apartment when we’re only in it half the year, right?”

Tom shrugs and drops a kiss to the top of Mike’s head. Mike looks up at him from his knees and smiles, wraps his fingers around Tom’s calf. “Maybe we should buy a place,” Tom suggests, and Mike grins.

“Yeah, sure, babe. Sounds perfect. You wanna get married, too? I’ll put a ring on it, and we can settle down, how about that?” 

Tom blinks down at him with wide eyes, his jaw slack, and Mike suddenly realizes what he just said.

And how this looks.

“Tom --” he starts, but Tom’s already hauling him to his feet, his hands gripping Mike’s biceps so hard Mike’s afraid he might bruise.

“Yeah,” Tom says, and then he’s kissing Mike so hard their teeth clack together. “Shittiest proposal ever,” he says between kisses, “but yeah. _Yes_ , Latts, lets do it.”

And just like that, Mike’s engaged.

(Engagement sex is really hot, though. He’s not gonna lie.)

\--

“Why can’t I tell them?” Tom asks again, for the fifth time in as many hours. He’s standing over Mike’s shoulder in the bathroom while Mike shaves, and their eyes meet in the mirror.

Mike sighs and rinses his razor in the sink. They’ve only been “engaged” (Mike puts finger quotes around it in his head every time he thinks about it) for three days, and Tom’s ready to send out a save-the-date announcement. It’s driving Mike a little crazy.

“Can’t we just -- keep it to ourselves for awhile?” Mike asks as he wipes a glob of shaving cream from his jaw. “It’s still pretty new, babe.”

Tom pouts at him in the mirror and boxes him in, his arms around Mike’s waist and his hands on the counter. “It’s just my parents,” he says, peppering kissing along Mike’s bare shoulder. “You won’t let me tell any of the guys, fine, we can wait. But this is my _parents_.”

Mike spins in Tom’s grasp and loops his arms around his neck, tilting his head to nose at Tom’s jaw. “How about we stop talking,” he starts, planting a soft kiss behind Tom’s ear, “and enjoy our last night in this apartment.”

Tom opens his mouth to object, but Mike kisses him quiet.

He’s lucky Tom’s so easily distracted.

\--

Tom’s staring out the passenger-side window, his cheek pressed to the glass, as Mike drives. 

They’d been at Tom’s parents for nearly a week, and every time he brought up telling them about their engagement, Mike found some excuse to put it off. “Let’s wait until dinner tonight. Your mom looks tired, we should should wait until morning. I think your dad’s in a bad mood, tomorrow will be better.”

By the time they’d packed the car and headed out, Tom was barely speaking to him.

“Just a couple hours left,” Mike says conversationally, sliding a hand over the middle console to rest on Tom’s thigh. They’re spending the summer in Toronto at a rented cabin on the water, and Mike knows how much Tom’s been looking forward to getting out on the boat. He’s not smiling, though, and the pit of guilt in Mike’s stomach continues to grow.

“I’m gonna close my eyes for bit,” Tom says, reclining his chair and angling himself toward the door. Mike’s hand slips from his leg.

“Yeah,” Mike says with a sigh. “Ok, babe. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and stares out at the road ahead.

\--

It’s late when they get in. Mike hauls most of their things in without asking Tom for help, and Tom lounges on the couch and flips aimlessly through channels.

“We can go to the market in the morning,” Mike calls from the kitchen as he unpacks the small bag of dry groceries they’d brought for the drive. “Unless you want something now? I can run if you want.”

“No thanks,” Tom calls back. “I’m good.”

Mike flips the light off as he pads into the den, sinking down on the couch next to Tom. He pulls Tom’s legs into his lap and rubs small circles on his ankles, watching Tom’s face for any sign of emotion. 

Tom swallows hard, and Mike feels like such a jerk.

“You wanna talk?” he asks quietly, even though he knows how this is going to end up. He knows he has to tell Tom the truth.

Tom shrugs, eyes fixed on the TV.   
“Babe,” Mike coaxes, and Tom finally looks at him. 

“I don’t get it,” Tom admits. “I don’t get how you just -- why don’t you want anyone to know? Why is it such a secret, Mike? Because I love you. I love you so fucking much and I want to tell the _world_.”

Mike sighs softly and grabs for Tom’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and he’s bouncing his knee anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I just -- fuck, this is hard.” He runs a hand through his hair and pulls a leg up underneath him, turning to face Tom. “That day in the apartment, when I…” He trails off, and Tom leans in.

“When you proposed.”

“Yeah. That,” Mike says. “I wasn’t -- that wasn’t --” 

Tom’s face twists into a frown. “What are you trying to say?”

“I was just joking,” Mike says all at once, quickly, and when Tom’s face goes blank, Mike’s heart stops. “It just came out, I didn’t mean to --

“Fuck you, Mike,” Tom says sadly, and pulls his hand from Mike’s. “I can’t believe you let me think --” He cuts himself off and covers his face with his hands for a brief moment before standing up and letting out a shaky breath. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“No,” Mike says, scrambling to his feet. “Don’t -- you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s my fault. I should have told you right away, I just --”

“I was just so fucking happy, you didn’t want to ruin it,” Tom says flatly, and Mike nods, because yeah, honestly. That’s exactly it. “Well, congratulations, man. Hope you’re proud of yourself.” Their shoulders brush as Tom pushes past him, and Mike watches him disappear down the hall.

He’s really not proud of himself at all.

\--

Tom tries to break up with him.

It’s ridiculous, Mike thinks, this is _not_ what he wants, but Tom’s convinced that they want different things and “this is for the best, Latts.” (He’s sniffling as he says it, though, so Mike knows he’s lying.) 

“Tom, don’t do this,” Mike begs, one hand tight around Tom’s wrist. “I love you.”

Tom sniffles again and rubs at his eyes. “I love you too,” he manages. “I just. I need some space, I think.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Mike says simply.

Tom leaves anyway.

\--

Mike paces the empty cabin. He stares out at the lake. He lays flat on his back in the middle of the room at looks at the ceiling, his arms flung out at his sides. There’s a spider creeping its way towards the ceiling fan, and his throat tightens when he thinks about how Tom would kill it for him if he were here. (Mike hates spiders.)

He thinks about how this summer was supposed to go.

He thinks about how he ruined it.

He thinks about a life without Tom, and then he stops thinking at all.

\--

It’s well past midnight on the third night since Tom left, and Mike is sprawled on the couch, a blanket tangled around his legs. The TV is humming quietly in the background, but Mike has no idea what’s on. He’s not watching; he’s chasing the sleep that’s been eluding him. 

His heart stops when he hears a car door slam outside, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps stopping just outside the door.

He scrambles to sit up and mutes the TV, his head snapping to the side when the doorknob starts to turn.

His mother always told him to lock the doors. He’s never regretted not taking her advice until this moment, and now his life is flashing before his eyes.

When the door opens, Mike’s shoulders sag with relief.

“Mike?” Tom says quietly, and Mike nearly trips over the blanket getting to his feet. 

“You came back,” Mike says, and Tom nods. They’re standing three feet apart, and it’s too far.

“Sorry it’s so late, I just -- couldn’t sleep, and I--”

“It’s ok, it’s fine,” Mike interrupts, and holds a hand out. When Tom takes it, the tension in Mike’s chest loosens.

“I don’t want to break up,” Tom says, at the same time that Mike says, “I’m an idiot.”

They laugh quietly, and Mike squeezes Tom’s hand. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Tom in. “Lets go to bed.”

\--

In the morning, Mike’s up first. He makes a pot of coffee and sits on the deck, shading his eyes against the glint of the early-morning sun against the glassy lake. He looks up when he hears the slide of the screen door opening. 

“Hey,” he says warmly, and Tom smiles, leaning against the door frame and still knuckling the sleep from his eyes. His hair is sticking up everywhere, and there’s a crease on his cheek from where he’d had his face buried in the pillow. Mike sets his mug down and gets to his feet.

He doesn’t stay there long.

There’s a light breeze blowing around them, and the morning birds are chirping in the trees. Tom’s eyes are wide and so, so blue. 

“Marry me,” Mike says, one hand cupping Tom’s hip, the deck smooth and cool beneath his knee. He leans in, kisses Tom’s belly, presses his cheek to Tom’s skin. “Marry me, Tom.”

Tom cards his fingers through Mike’s hair, and Mike looks up. When their eyes meet, Tom finally smiles.

“You’re an idiot,” he says fondly. 

Mike laughs and lets Tom pull him to his feet. “Is that a yes?” he asks against Tom’s mouth, after Tom’s kissed him breathless. 

“Can I tell my parents?” Tom asks, and Mike grins before tilting his head up for another kiss.

“Babe,” he says, “you can tell the world.”


End file.
